


54 68 6f 75 67 68 74

by Souhashi



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Cyborg Reese, Fanart, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souhashi/pseuds/Souhashi
Summary: “You missed”John watches the numbers increase in front of him, climbing to the double, then to the triple digits. It’s a testament to his failure and they make sure he knows it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	54 68 6f 75 67 68 74

“You missed”

John watches the numbers increase in front of him, climbing to the double, then to the triple digits. It’s a testament to his failure and they make sure he knows it.

“You signed a contract on the 21st of November, 2007, authorizing the use of your body as a host for artificial limbs, property of Anchem Pharmaceuticals. You are thereby subject to the terms of use.”

He didn’t sign shit or he doesn’t remember doing so. Unless he made a deal with a devil he didn’t know. There were so many of them. Reese was used to signing away his life.

“You’ve fired 37, 650 bullets under this contract. Many of them similar to this model.”

The cartridge glimmers in the harsh light, blue wisps sliding over the smooth surface as the scanner runs, back and forth, back and forth. The interrogator is a lower end android, basic neural structure and sense emulation. John doesn’t know how the neurons, cheap silicon and copper, allow for so much smugness and condescension.

“You have a hit accuracy of 98.8%”. A 99.6% success rate on missions prior to this event. Your logs do not indicate unfavorable weather conditions, mechanical failures or increased duress. It was...handed to you...on a..plate.”

Reese almost laughs as the neurons in that metal skull struggle to make word play but he restrains himself. Can’t have them knowing, the level of corruption in his carefully calibrated systems.

“You know what happens if you tamper with the technology you have been gifted.”

John knows all too well. He has seen them in missions, the silent agony of no longer being in control of anything so excruciating, it’s projected right under the leathery mask of a face.

The walking dead.

“I have not been tampering with anything” John says, bored “Computers flip bits if rays of cosmic radiation hit them just right and crash. Systems fail, even the infallible ones. Also, the target is dead.”

There is a whirr of indignation from the android. How dare he.

“We cannot prove the target has been neutralized because there is no impact. By definition, it was a miss. Are you in need of calibration?” Calibration could mean anything, John has found out.

“All I’m saying is, you are making mountains out of molehills.” He waits for the android to get it.

“A miss is not a...molehill.” The android says “You have a history of instability.”

Reese shifts, the cuffs clinking.

 _He saw the light. He followed it. And when he reached the end he wasn’t him any more. The body was clinging to him,_ _latched_ _on to his remains with wires and pistons, reanimating them._

_He was the host to a parasite._

“Surgery complications. Hardly history but you wouldn’t know that would you?” He dares the android to disagree but it’s outside the realm of its imagination and he presses on that wound. Cyborgs and androids will never be the same.

He locks eyes with the machine until it moves, placing the bullet on the table.

“I will be mandating an anti-tamper examination. Until it is complete, and the results satisfactory, you are under arrest. You will be placed in level 3 confinement.”

Reese sighs as gas fills the room, his interrogator soon disappearing in the fumes. They are rattled and he’s wondering how careful he has been. For all he knows they have been stringing him along.

They wheel him out of the interrogation room in the straitjacket equivalent of cyborg restraints, blinking hazily against the drugs they are pumping into him. He is acutely aware that he resembles a sarcophagus and the thought is mildly amusing to him, even with the fog in his brain. It’s been a while since he was forced in level 3 confinement but he hates it all the same. Too much time alone and silent, stewing in his thoughts. If he thinks he gets sloppy. And his thoughts are not safe.

 _Their suspicions are justified. I_ _t’s_ _damn_ _near impossible to miss while listening to the parasite. All parameters are accounted for with 5 decimal point accuracy and for a trained sniper_ _it’_ _s a dream come true._

_He is not listening to the parasite._

_The parasite is listening to him._

_The host is killing it._

_John knows he is not the John who was. But in serializing his very soul, they have managed to turn it into a virus and it’s infecting the tech itself._

_He is regaining control, bit by bit._

_Byte by byte._

Alone in his prison, Reese thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while huh? I had lots of changes happen in real life which hindered my creativity but I'm slowly balancing stuff out. This fic is in the same universe as [Philanthropy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19182784) and it's something I intend to explore more. The bird fic is still in the works, I just need to find some time to lay the new chapter down.  
> PS. The title is comprised of hexadecimal characters ;)


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